


A Home in Belgravia

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Brother Mine [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Absentee Parents, British Government, Gen, House Keeper, London, Mental Illness (mentioned), Minor Government Official, job offer, run aways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months after Mycroft and his little brother run away from home, he finds a job cleaning house for a minor government official in Belgravia. It pays well, and they both are allowed to live there. Everything seems perfectly ordinary, until Mycroft realizes that there's nothing minor about the man he's employed to. In fact, he's quite brilliant, and cleaning floors is not what he had in mind when he brought the Holmes brothers into his house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Home in Belgravia

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third part to the "Brother Mine" series. Although there are references to previous chapters, it is not necessary to read them prior to this story. 
> 
> This story is not brit-picked nor beta-read. If you notice any mistakes, please feel free to let me know and I will fix them promptly. If you would like to become my beta reader, then I'll gladly take your advice. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

Mycroft and William lasted two months before their funds ran out and they were struggling to make due. They’d lived well enough in London during that time, travelling from place to place and exploring the world. They avoided all notice by walking near adults who ignored them, and looking as though they completely belonged. They never went to the same place twice, and they were always careful when they spoke with strangers on how much information they gave.

William held onto Mycroft tightly, nervous almost constantly, and yet curious about everything he saw around him. He looked at the city as though it were magic, and Mycroft knew that he enjoyed being there. He thrived under the constant onslaught of new information and explanations that Mycroft gave him, and had their well being been more secured: Mycroft was certain he’d enjoy it just as much.

As it was, they were quickly running into a cash flow problem, and he wasn’t quite sure how much longer they could avoid the most obvious issue of their escape: money and lodging. Without a steady home for them to stay at, they’d been making do by dozing in libraries and showering in a local fitness club they got a membership at. Mycroft easily passed himself off as being sixteen, and explained to the managers that he was responsible for his brother while their parents were at work.

The ruse worked out well for the most part, but it wasn't a permanent solution. He needed a job, and he needed to ensure that William was going to be safe while he was working that job. He was skeptical about finding a possible solution, and was immediately suspicious of anyone William was left with. He didn’t like leaving his brother alone for any length of time, and William proved he was incapable of following directions on more then one occasion when Mycroft had gone to an interview and returned to find William missing.

William was never too hard to track down, granted, usually he’d just wandered to a nearby shop or park. It didn’t change Mycroft’s panicked hysteria whenever it happened. He knew the dangers that existed in the world, and the fact that his very young little brother was out there alone was not something that pleased him. It was almost enough to march William right back to their parents. School was one thing, but abduction was quite another. The experience was humbling, and Mycroft had no delusions on what could possibly come out of all of this.

William was appropriately chastised each time, and yet he kept doing it, no matter what Mycroft said to him. He kept walking off, eager to talk to the hundreds of Londoners that surrounded him. “Don’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you? They’ll wonder where your parents are, they’ll send you to the police and then you’ll be returned home. I’ll never see you again!” Mycroft shouted at him constantly.

“Why would they bother? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“You’re not with our parents, that’s what’s wrong.”

“But you’re more my parent then _they_ are.”

“That’s utterly beside the point.” Mycroft told him, not quite sure what to make of the blatant faith that William always instilled in him. He wished he knew what he’d done to cause such a reaction in his brother, but he couldn’t bring himself to be unhappy in the face of such emotion. He _liked_ being the one that William always turned to. It felt vindicating. “Please, please just don’t run off. I’ll never see you again, and then there’d have been no point in us leaving home to begin with.”

“All right, Mike. I won’t run off.” William promised. Mycroft didn’t hold his breath for the next time he had an interview.

As luck would have it, however, he needn’t have worried. The next interview was the last, and he secured a position that suited all of his needs. He got a job as a cleaner for a minor government official of some sort at his home in Belgravia. The position came with room and board, and William was sequestered away with ease. Mycroft congratulated himself on his brilliant management of the system, and he delighted in the fact that he’d proven their parents wrong: he could look after William and there was absolutely nothing they could say to the contrary. They’d succeeded in escaping, and no one would find them here.

His employer was a man named Thomas Kent. He was tall with broad shoulders, and was so busy he barely paid them any mind. He was rarely even in the house and was always travelling in some capacity. Mycroft entertained himself with guessing wherever the man went to next, and congratulating his ingenuity when he was right.

Kent struck Mycroft as a rather intelligent individual, despite his position. He took note of every change that happened in his house, and occasionally he’d consult with Mycroft on why he moved things here or there or how best to proceed with the dusting. His observational skills were astounding, and Mycroft was relatively surprised that the man noticed half of what Mycroft did considering he was never truly home often enough for it to matter. 

It seemed as though Kent saw and knew everything. It was vaguely intimidating, but since the man didn’t seem to care one way or another about whatever Mycroft did with his life: he wasn’t inclined to argue too much. William was allowed to roam about the house and do whatever he pleased, and none of the staff thought twice about the boy being there. They all were too busy working on their own projects to care at all about him, and Mycroft let out a breath of relief that everything was going so well.

Sometimes Kent entertained guests, and Mycroft locked William in their room for the evening as he attended to them. He kept an eye on Kent the whole time, making sure that their employer was satisfied with the job he was doing. He knew full well that they would only be allowed to stay there so long as Kent continued to be pleased with them, and Mycroft was determined to keep that feeling alive. 

It was during these events that Mycroft discovered several things about his employer. The first was simple: Kent was a fierce man. He orchestrated his guests with the skill and proficiency of a man that most people were afraid of. They respected him, but they also were wary of his decisions. Every so often Mycroft could hear the thinly laced threats that left Kent’s mouth. He wondered, vaguely, what purpose of entertaining people that he clearly didn’t like in the first place was. It didn’t make much sense to Mycroft, but he knew better than to argue 

The second, was that Kent was likely anything _but_ a minor government official. He was far too relaxed in his position, he guests were far too prominent in theirs, and the whole atmosphere seemed to revolve around them pleasing him and noth the other way around. He was akin to a puppet-master, and Mycroft watched him do it. It was quite possibly the most extraordinary observation Mycroft had ever made. He was astounded to find that there were people out in the world that weren’t complete morons. He’d just been about to give up hope.

It wasn’t so much a surprise when Kent revealed that he knew all along that Mycroft wasn’t really sixteen, that his brother and him had run away from home, and he knew full well all there was to know about them. Some people, Mycroft realized, truly did know everything.

In his heart of hearts, he knew that he wanted to be just like that one day

“You’re quite smart for a child.” Kent told him once, when Mycroft was busy sweeping his study. It was one of those rare moments when Kent was actually home. Sometimes if he’d been gone for weeks on end, Kent took a day to himself in his home office and worked there instead. It never seemed strange or bizarre until then.

“Thank you, sir.” Deference was the first thing Mycroft learned to portray. That, and ignorance. He wasn’t meant to know the things he knew, and he did his best to hide that.

“Your parents must miss you terribly. You and that boy of yours.” Kent suggested plainly.

“My parents are dead, I look after William myself, sir.” Mycroft lied easily, ignorant of the fact that Kent already knew the truth.

“Your parents are alive and well and have been looking for you for months, Mycroft Holmes, do not presume to lie to me.” Kent’s voice sounded jovial, but there was an edge there that Mycroft was uncertain about. He looked up to his employer and he frowned.

“If you have no further need of me, sir, I’ll take my leave.”

“I didn’t say that, did I? Sit down, Mycroft. Let’s have a talk.” Kent waved his hands toward the chair that sat opposite his desk, and Mycroft did as he was told without question. He met Kent’s eyes without flinching. He already knew where the exits were, he’d calculated Kent’s likely speed based on his muscle mass and pre-recorded athleticism. He knew the route to take if he had to flee, and he knew that William was always prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. They had a system, and it worked. It was as simple as that. “You’re a smart boy.”

“So you’ve said, sir.”

“Tell me, what do you think about this country?”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir. 

“You can stop that right now.” Kent slammed his hand on his desk, and Mycroft jumped, startled by the sudden change. “You’re shamming me, Mycroft, and I don’t appreciate it. You couldn’t give a damn about being polite if it would save your soul. But your brother? You’d do quite a lot for him. Now. I want to speak to the boy who ran away from his parents, dragging his seven year old brother with him, and got a job just to avoid going to school.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m not an idiot like the rest of the people you meet. Because I observed it, and I deduced it, and I have resources that you couldn’t conceive of. Now, am I going to get a conversation with _that_ boy, or shall I drag young Will in and have him join our chat as well?”

“What do you want?” Mycroft’s back stiffened and his eyes narrowed. No longer amused by Kent’s audacity, he prepared himself for a fight. His senses were giving him every bit of warning that could be expected, only it was happening nearly six months too late. He thought he’d been clever installing Will and himself inside Kent’s home, but for once: he was beginning to doubt that decision.

“I want to have a talk. That’s it.”

“What kind of _talk_?”

“About the state of this country and what you think about it.”

“Why?”

“Because you see things that others don’t. I quite like that about you. 

“What else do you _like_?” Kent paused for a moment, frowning low. His brows furrowed, and his face scrunched up like he’d sucked on a lemon. Then, comprehension dawned across his face and he let out the most exasperated noise Mycroft had ever heard. The man lifted a hand and waved off the question as though it was a vile thing stuck on his skin.

“I have no interests in you, or your _brother_ for that matter, in any way other than intellectually. I have neither the time nor the inclination for any such attachments. You both are quite safe from that.”

“Then what do you _want_?”

“To know your opinion on the state of this country, though I’m fast losing interest. Are you always so dull in responding to inquiries?”

“This country doesn’t concern me. 

“Doesn’t it?”

“No.”

“Its laws and its legislation bind you utterly, you’ve seen for yourself how things can be taken out of context, how certain people can make decisions that don’t have consequences for you so long as you’re the one in power. You’re familiar with many aspects of this country. You are, of course, a citizen. Does none of this matter to you?”

“This country’s laws and legislation are created by people who can barely string a sentence together. They are more concerned with their public persona, and they lie blatantly to anyone who crosses their paths. They’re obsessed with glamour and delight. They highlight certain individuals, and they stalk them with cameras and tabloids simply to objectify them. The country is run less on law and practice and more on opinion and scandal. You’ll forgive me if I don’t think too highly about this country.” For a moment, Mycroft worried he might have said something to offend Kent. The man was looking at him with shrewd eyes and a pinched expression. His hands were clasped in front of his face, and he tapped his lips with his fingers for several seconds 

Then, his mouth twisted into a strange grin and he leaned forwards. He was pleased, obviously, and Mycroft couldn’t fathom why that might be. “You’re a smart boy.” He repeated and he nodded to Mycroft with something that was bizarrely identified as respect. “You’re right, of course. This country operates much like every other country: through media and opinion, scandal and lies. It’s built on a foundation of secrecy. It has to be. There are some things that need to be done to divert the public’s eye away from the difficult decisions that are made each day. Sport, drama, all of it is supported to intentionally give the people something to complain about that isn’t important. They can argue and fight over football, and at the end of the day: they don’t realize we just executed a terrorist planning to bomb their local pub. Neat, quick, easy. Do you see how it works?" 

“Of course, the method is simple. Humans are so readily oblivious as it is. You play on it.”

“Yes.  Exactly.” 

“Why are you talking to me about this?” 

“Because I’m an old man and I don’t have much respect for the future. You’re quite smart, and I’m lazy at heart. Why look for a replacement when one willingly walks through my door?”

“I’m sixteen-”

“Fourteen, we agreed not to lie to each other remember?”

“I’m fourteen. You want me to replace you? I don’t know anything about what you do, what you want me to do, or why it should matter.”

“You’re not going to do anything at all anytime soon. For now, you’re simply going to wash my floors and send your brother back to his parents.” Mycroft’s amusement at the conversation fled in an instant. He pressed his lips tightly together and his hands clenched in his chair. “That’s the reason right there.” Kent continued. “You care about him. You care more than you should. If someone came in here right now and told you to murder me or your brother would be killed you’d do it without thinking. He’s your pressure point.”

“What are you talking about?”

“William is the one thing in this world you’d die for. That’s lovely. I have family myself. I’d hate to see them die.”

“I’ve never seen them. There are no photos.”

“Exactly. There’s nothing at all that can make you hurt. Sentiment, Mycroft, is what’s going to destroy you. Your world is trapped around that child, and while it’s a noble effort – it will kill you. Self-preservation is the natural biological instinct. Embrace it for once in your life.”

“You just want me to send Will away, then what?”

“Then, I want you to start using that brain of yours and realize what’s happening around you. There are changes coming, big ones. Not the least of which is the Prince’s birth.”

“What do I care about that?”

“Nothing, apparently. But it changes things. Monarchs always do.” Kent stretched his back, and then twisted his wrists. His spine and bones cracked in reply and he leaned forwards towards Mycroft. “You have the capacity to change this world and everyone in it. You can run this country, ensure that all the little people you don’t give a damn about continue to live their world in the glass bottle they’ve corked themselves up in. Your world doesn’t have to be that way. It can be exactly what you want it to be: flawless, executed with precision, and without compromise. You don’t save lives by cleaning floors and running away from home. You save them by holding power. As you are now, you’ll never have any of it. You’ll be funneled along to burn out at twenty – miserable because your brother hit puberty and decided he hates everyone around him and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“What are you suggesting then, that I just do what you say?”

“I’m suggesting that you listen carefully to what I’m saying. Your brother is your greatest weakness. He will get you killed one day, I’m certain of it. That doesn’t matter to you, though. What matters to you is that he might be in danger. Let me put it to you this way: no matter what you do in life, your brother will be in danger. But if you show how much you care for him, if you do everything in the world to protect him and let the world know you’re doing it: then you’re the one painting the target on his back.”

“Who’s going to target us? We’re nothing now. I’m a _maid_ , for Christ’s sake. I haven’t done anything to warrant that kind of attention or brutality. What you’re offering is what’s going to validate such requirements. I have no need of any of that. I’m content doing what I am now.”

“Can you truly think of _no one_ who will make that boy suffer to get back at you?” Kent raised his eyebrows at him, and Mycroft blanched. He wondered just how deep this man’s intelligence went, and he felt his insides twist at the thought. Kent rose from his chair and walked to a beverage table that had been set out prior. The man poured a stiff drink in two glasses, and passed one to Mycroft without so much as asking if he wanted anything.

They sat across from each other once more, but neither spoke. Kent merely rocked his liquor in his glass, watching it roll about the edges in smooth motions. Mycroft didn’t bother trying to drink it, he hated the flavor and the smell was atrocious, but holding something was easier than nothing at all. He was grateful to have it 

“They’ll let him go, won’t they?” Mycroft asked quietly, giving voice to the fear he’d had since his older brother had been locked away nearly a year ago. Sherrinford had promised he wouldn’t forget, and he had kept in touch with their parents to ensure that his presence was never fully gone.

 “Yes.” Kent nodded gravely. “Your older brother has a silver tongue. He’s likely to be released within the next few months.”

 “You don’t believe him?”

 “That he’s rehabilitated? Mycroft, I deal with psychopaths on a daily basis – there’s no such thing as rehabilitation. Only management.”

 “So what happens now? He just gets released into society to do as he pleases?”

 “We’ll keep an eye on things, and cause an accident if needed.” Kent was unapologetic and unassuming. He believed, rightly, that Mycroft wouldn’t care about his callous nature. The only thing Mycroft seemed interested in was understanding exactly how Kent came to know all he seemed to know. “Your mother was a fine mathematician. Did you know where her research got her?”

 “On a watch list?” Mycroft asked, and Kent smiled.

 “Employed. She ran algorithms for the Crown. She was very good at it, probability and logistics. Then she became pregnant with your brother. She asked to leave and we let her. It was as simple as that.”

 “You kept watch on our family.”

 “Of course we did. She’s brilliant, and while some may not value a mathematician, we certainly do. We ensured that your family wanted for nothing.”

 “She must have been quite the mathematician.”

“She was a friend.”

“She never mentioned you.”

“Nor would she have.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t exist. I never have, and quite frankly, I never will. I will die going down as a minor government official. Perhaps not even something as grandiose as that.”

“You don’t want the credit?”

“To take credit means that I’m playing plebian. I’m simply one of the masses showing a public face. If I take credit, then I exist to the world, and can be held accountable to their standards. Sometimes, it’s good to stay in the shadows.” He tipped his glass towards Mycroft in a salute, and Mycroft felt his lips twitch upwards in the ghost of a smile.

“Did you always know? About what Sherrinford was doing? What he did to us?”  Kent sighed heavily at that. He placed his glass on his desk and he leaned backwards in his chair. His eyes went towards the ceiling and for many moments he didn’t speak.

“We knew.” He admitted without preamble or excuse. “Your toxicology reports at the hospital revealed that you’d imbibed toxic materials. It was written off as a childish accident, but we have always been aware of your brother’s mindset.”

“You didn’t stop him.”

“It’s not our job to stop every event before it happens.”

“Then what is your job?”

“To preserve balance. You survived, and showed your mettle.”

“How did you know I’d come here for a job?”

“Because we know how to get people to do what we want. When you left home, it was simple enough to follow your tracks, to get you someplace safe. I admit that you lasted longer than we thought you would. You even got farther than we thought you’d make it. Bringing you here was just a matter of preservation. It gave me time to observe you, to know if you had what it takes to take the next step forwards.”

“And I can’t do that with Will here?”

“You can.” Kent told him seriously. “You can keep Will here, and you can have him at your side. You could raise him as you’ve always done. You can bring him up and have him serve as your aide, or utilize him in any way you saw fit. He has the capacity to absorb great amounts of knowledge. He’ll be well molded into whatever you’d like.”

“Then why shouldn’t I?”

“Because, as I said – he will be used against you in a heartbeat. He will be taken from you, he will be beaten, and he may even be killed. You’ll drag him through hell simply for the few moments of companionship you may have. It won’t be worth it.” Kent’s smile was brittle even as he spoke, and Mycroft felt his fingers squeeze around his glass.

“You know from experience.”

“I do.”

“How old were you when you started this way?”

“Twelve.”

“Who went with you?”

“My mother. She’s dead now – long gone.” Kent shook his head. “Sentiment is the first thing you will give up. It doesn’t help. It never will. It only makes things more difficult in the end. You’ll wonder many things over the coming years. Why we chose you is simple. You have all the necessary skills required, and you have something that will make you strong in the face of adversity. You want to protect someone, and so you’ll do everything you can to do it.”

“You just told me to give up sentiment, to leave Will behind.”

“I’m telling you to leave Will behind so he isn’t used against you. Will lives in England. Protect England, keep its enemies at bay, defend the Crown, root out the traitors and the rot, and reach your hand into the filth. Do this and you protect Will at the exact same time. Only you will know why you’re truly doing this task, only you will know where this road leads and what you left behind. But the road is exactly that: a road that leads in two directions. You can’t erase the beginning in order to reach the end, it all is one piece of one grand plan. That’s your choice. Bring Will with you and let him walk beside you, or leave him behind and know that you’ve kept him safe by denying yourself the one thing you’d like most: his companionship.” 

“He’s my brother, I’ve spent my whole life protecting him.”

“And you will continue to do so. You simply won’t be personally involved.” Mycroft rolled it over in his mind. He could see himself like Kent. He could see himself living in a home that was devoid of any personal affects. He could see himself making people dance simply by pulling the right strings.

But it felt too much like Sherrinford.

It felt too much like manipulation and lies that circled themselves over and over. It was the kind of game that Sherrinford used to play. Kent had been honest with him, almost brutally so, and Mycroft knew that the man didn’t do it often. It was almost a relief to be able to speak about his profession. Not once, though, did Kent encourage him one way or another. He was laying out options, and allowing him to decide.

“What happens if I say no?”

 “Nothing. You’re welcome to stay here. Though I do warn you, should anything happen to you in an attempt to influence me in anyway, I will not hesitate to leave you to die someplace cold and unforgiving.” Mycroft bared his teeth a bit at that.

 “I don’t need _you_ to protect us. I can take care of us all on my own.” 

 “Of course. This isn’t a pop quiz in any case. I offered you a job to work here, and while you’re tragic at cleaning floors: you’re welcome to keep it as long as you want. I will not kick you out.”

 “Why would you let us stay here, if you don’t want me to work?”

 “Because I owe your mother a debt. The least I can do is put her children in unimaginable danger in return.” His mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile, and he drained his glass with ease. Placing his glass on the table he stood up. “Drink it, it’ll put hair on your chest. Might even deepen your voice some.” He motioned towards the glass. Mycroft glanced at the fluid and licked his lips. Taking a deep breath, he knocked it back and swallowed it in one gulp. Kent laughed proudly and clapped him on the shoulder.

 He walked out of the study and left Mycroft there, and the teenager looked at the walls around him. The wood was of fine quality, the shelves were sturdy, and everything was made to last. There was a suit of armor in the corner, proudly standing guard over everything with proper posture. Mycroft wrinkled his nose at it. It was all very archaic and old.

 He wondered, faintly, what kind of word they lived in where the government recruited heirs at fourteen to fill spots in secret societies that ruled everything. It all sounded like something from one of William’s favorite books. “Ridiculous.” Mycroft murmured. Kent was being kind, letting them stay there, but Mycroft had no interest in following in his footsteps.

 He had no desire to deal with the world at large. They could run themselves into the ground for all he cared. It wasn’t his problem, and it wasn’t his fight. He just had to look after William, that was it. With the knowledge that Sherrinford was going to be released soon, and that their parents would welcome him back with open arms: Mycroft was not willing to risk bringing William home. Kent knew about Sherrinford, and he was letting them stay. For now, that was the most important thing. They had food, they had lodging, and they had a plan of attack. 

He’d talk to Kent about getting proper employment at some point, to ensure that he still had an income to look after his brother with. But government work? That wasn’t right at all. He had no interest in it, and he wasn’t going down that road.

He never would.

**Author's Note:**

> For story updates and more, follow me on Tumblr: 
> 
> http://falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com


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